


Thief of the Heart

by WinterRoseQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:25:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRoseQueen/pseuds/WinterRoseQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa works at an art museum and walks in on a thief who claims to be anything but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thief of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago and decided post without editing. Hope you like it anyway.

I hummed quietly as I moved across the polished white marble, swinging my clipboard and listening to the sound of my heels clicking. I walked into the next room and almost dropped my clipboard, inhaling sharply instead. A slim masked figure in all black spun around at the noise, hands flying from the priceless painting that hung mere feet from me.  
  
My mouth opened to yell but in a flash the figure had a gloved hand over my mouth. Up close I noticed soft curves and realized this robber was a woman. I attempted to shove my clipboard at her stomach, only to find myself pressed against the doorframe. She was a few inches shorter, but unexpectedly strong. My single possible weapon was edged out of my hand with a knee.   
  
I saw her eyes inches from my own, oddly inviting but somehow calculating and sharp all at the same time. It confused me. She was looking right back and after a moment her head cocked to the side. Her grip over my mouth and arm pinned across my body slackened slightly. I took the opportunity to push away from the wall, forcefully enough to make her stumble backwards. I whirled around and got ready to run. Too slow.  
  
While my back was turned the girl leapt forward and grabbed my waist. We fell ungracefully to the floor, but for some reason she had spun me around to face her and stuck an arm underneath my head before it would've conveniently smacked onto the cool marble and knocked me unconscious. A hand firmly grasped my hands, then returned to cover my mouth, but not before I snatched the fabric of her mask and pulled. I looked up at a heart-shaped face with curling bow-like lips and defined, perfectly uneven features. Chestnut curls were loose from a low bun, framing her head and complementing the color of her eyes.  
  
She adjusted so that she straddled my waist and had my wrists firmly pinned above my head in her free hand. I wriggled underneath her and tried to kick my legs up to no avail. She didn't do anything, oddly enough. She just stayed planted on top of me, even though I could've easily been punched or worse for all my helpless squirming had done. After a while I gave up the useless attempts to escape and just decided to lie there until she did something. I took that time to thank the gods for being attacked by the most gentle thief of all time. She raised an eyebrow at my quick surrender.  
  
"Will you scream if I move my hand?" she asked warily after a while. Her voice was warm and musical-it sounded like it was made for riddles and poetry. I processed the question and shook my head. She studied me for a long time before slowly lifting her hand. For some reason, I actually didn't scream for any security.  
  
"I didn't think anyone would be in this wing," she said. I couldn't tell if she was talking to herself or to me.  
  
"No offense, but you don't seem like art-thief material." I don't know why I said that outloud, and her hand almost clapped over my lips again. She proved my point further by grinning down at me, like I was a friend telling her a joke. I didn't know whether to thank the gods or curse them for being presented with the most likable and attractive criminal in the world.  
  
"You may find it hard to believe, but it's not what it looks like." she said.  
  
"It looks like you were about to steal that painting," I said. "And that you tackled me to the floor."  
  
"Partly true," she allowed. "And my only crime is breaking and entering."  
  
"Mm hmm..." I wiggled my hips slightly to demonstrate how trapped I was and arched an eyebrow.  
  
"I wouldn't exactly consider this to be assault," she said. In a serious tone she added, "I won't hurt you."  
  
"Isn't that for me to decide?" However, I believed her words. I was more focused on the rosy color of her lips than the fact that I was in the middle of what apparently wasn't a robbery. Instead of any fear I thought the warmth she was giving to my lower body was extremely appealing, which was wholly inappropriate for the situation. She moved my arms down so they were on either side of my head instead of above. Her own slowly slid down to lay across my forearms, letting the palms of her hands rest on mine. I realized how intimate this seemed and felt a shiver down my spine. She noticed and gave a smile that looked absolutely delighted.  
  
With sparkling eyes she leaned down so close that our chests almost touched, close enough for me to smell a soft, floral sweetness that was too natural to be anything but her own bodily perfume. I almost didn't want to admit to myself how much I'd like it if she came even closer.  
  
"You're different," she said softly, almost as if surprised. I wasn't fully sure what that meant but it caused my heart to stop for a second.  
  
After a moment she asked, "Will you run if I stand up?" It was hardly a question.  
  
"No," I said immediately. "I won't run." When she pulled away and stood I felt strangely empty at the loss of her pressure. I sat up and watched her pluck her mask from the ground. "There are security cameras in here," I pointed out.  
  
"I disabled them," she replied offhandedly. So she wasn't the worst criminal. She must be extremely smart, because they were high-tech.  
  
"You know," I began as I stood, "I saw your face. How do you know I won't go to the police?"  
  
"Because," she said with a smile. "You're different."  
  
In one fluid motion she shook out her mask and pulled it over her head. I wanted to tell her not to ever cover her face, because it was a tragedy to not to see the lovely structure of her cheekbones. I watched as she crossed the room, as silent as a cat. Before I could speak she quietly eased the door open and slid out.  
  
Above the whirlwind of she-seriously-came-in-here-through-a-door? and that-was-the-weirdest-experience-of-my-life, I felt a deep sadness that I'd never know her name.

**Author's Note:**

> I've considered adding more if anyone would want that. Maybe if it's well-received.


End file.
